I'Ve Gone Back ~ Part 6 Poem by Mary Nagy
I'Ve Gone Back ~ Part 6
Heading down the stairs
I feel the temperature drop
as a thick, musty smell
hits me in the face.
I stop at the bottom of the stairs
as the scar on my right foot
aches... a reminder of the
broken beer bottles that were
normally left after the fights.
The ping-pong table is in the corner
and I can hear the echoing of the ball
being hit back and forth in the championship matches.
The bar seems eerily empty.
Nobody at the barstools.
The lights unlit seem very odd.
There was rarely a day or night
that this basement bar wasn't
full of people
ranging from teenagers to retirees.
I see the glasses still sitting atop the bar.
(the ones that show the many sexual positions)
My cheeks flush as I still feel the shame
of studying that glass as a young girl.
The smell of whiskey fills the air
and I almost wonder
if my head is spinning from the air
or from the memory.
Either way, I know it's time to leave.
As I head back to the stairs
I see into the laundry room.
The mass piles of laundry
that sit at least 4 ft high stare at me
as a grim reminder of the time
mom thought that would be a great hiding place
and burrowed like an animal
under one of the moldy piles
to escape the wrath of dad
(leaving us to take the brunt of his anger) .
The stairs seem almost welcoming now.
I feel as if they are helping me climb them.
The need to get out of this house is overwhelming.
I don't even remember walking out
or through the garage again.
I just remember filling my lungs
with the sweetest air I've ever breathed
once I was on the road
and heading towards my home.
**The final piece in a Series of 6
Mary, I'm going to give you another opinion: I've read a number of these - they're entertaining as prose, but as poetry they seem flat and unpolished. I really think you ought to put it all together as a blunt, hip memoir and shop it to publishers. You seem to have a strong story to tell; chopping it up into lines and calling it 'poetry' is undermining the power (and marketability) of it. -LP
Mary, these pieces pulled my heart from my chest and created a lump hard to swallow. It almost stired a little anger. You imagery here takes the reader through so many emotions. So sad a child had to experience these things. But the strength to make it through is one marked with unmeasurable courage.
I shall agree with the comments of George, , , , , Very Well Done Indeed..Mary
Epic depiction in ever telescoping detail, the childhood uglies some of us confront as adults. You tell the tale masterfully - a short story really and a fine write indeed. The begging question I got was did you get the circle closed or is it still a disconnect because 'they' were not there/or not confronted? Perhaps an epilogue? ? Or maybe this was the final step for you to the extent that the low level details developed the players for you sufficiently so that face to face catharsis would be redundant. Either way, your pain comes across HARD AND DEEP. Hope this experience and the write helped you put al the angst in a drawer, close it, lock it and throw away the key. Best, George
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 10:17:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Mary thanks for writing this it is very fine series I am glad that you found the courage to write it all out so in depth you can feel the emtion and see the mental picture as if you were there. I agree wiht Lamont that you should try and publish it I am sure someone will eat it up. Marilyn